•4MM 


•P 


^n*/< 


ny  jii 


Utbrarg 

nftlj* 

&an  Jranrtfirn  College  fnr  Hatron 


«ift  of 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


FRED  M.  DE\VIT 


WHEN  EAST 

COMES  WEST 


WHEN  EAST  COMES 
WEST 


BY 

MINA  DEANE(  HALSEY 

Author  of 

"A  Tenderfoot  in   Southern  California" 
"Needles  and  Pins,"  Etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK 
PRINTED  FOR  THE  AUTHOR 

BY 

J.  J.   LITTLE  &  IVES  CO. 
1909 


SECOND  INSTALLMENT  OF  "BILL"  SERIES 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
MINA   DEANE    HALSEY 


All  rights  reserved 


THE  [i/UJr,ROFT  I 


r  o  j ) 

,  i 


This  is  an  autograph  edi- 
tion of  "When  East  Comes 
West,"  the  number  of  this 
copy 


Hotringlp  Bebicateo 
to 


anb 


FOREWORD 

The  first  thing  you  are  liable  to  hear  when 
you  step  off  the  overland  train  is,  "Say,  what 
part  of  the  country  did  you  come  from,  eh  ?  " 
And  before  you  can  shift  your  quid  of  chewing 
terbacca  over  to  the  other  side  of  your  mouth, 
it  will  be  followed  up  with  a  good  warm  hand- 
shake, and,  "  How  d'  you  like  it  out  here, 
partner?"  Now  don't  get  any  wrong  ideas 
into  your  head,  and  think  this  smiling  individual 
is  a  "bunco  steerer"  or  some  one  who  is  just 
poking  his  nose  into  your  affairs,  for  you  never 
was  more  mistaken  in  your  life,  friend. 

Like  as  not  he'll  take  you  home  and  feed  you 
for  a  month — lend  you  some  of  his  good  clothes 
to  sport  around  in  until  your  trunk  shows  up, 
and  if  you  need  a  job,  he'll  find  you  one,  even 
if  he  has  to  give  you  his  job,  until  you  can  find 
another. 

He's  a  Californian;  and  when  you  get  the 
real  meaning  of  that  word  fixed  in  your  mind, 
so  that  you  can  understand  it,  you'll  know  why 
they  call  this  country  the  "land  of  gold."  It 
ain't  all  in  the  ground;  —  it's  the  stuff  the 
"angels"  are  made  of,  by  gum! 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

/.    Rooms  for  Rent 13 

//.    Mt.   Wilson  and  Pasadena      .      .      .  25 

///.     The  Whys  and  Wherefores     ...  37 

IV.    Out  in  God1  s  Country        ....  47 

V.    How  to  Spend  Tour  Money     .      .      .  63 

VI.    What  Keeps  the  Pot  a-Boiling      .      .  75 

VII.    Counting  My  Money— Mebbe !     .      .  89 

VIIL    Bennie's  Letter 97 


Don't  ever  walk  into 
trouble  with  your  eyes 
open — put  on  blinders 
and  shy  at  it,  Bill. 


CHAPTER   I 


ROOMS    FOR    RENT 


ONEST  to  good- 
ness, Bill,  I  had 
no  more  idea  what 
I  was  going  up 
against,  when  I  started  out  hunt- 
ing rooms  in  Los  Angeles,  than  a 
good-natured  turkey  has  on  Thanks- 
giving Day,  when  she  sees  a  fellar  with 
a  smile  on  his  face,  and  a  hatchet  in  his 
hand,  sneak  up  behind  her. 

A  man  on  the  train  told  me  the  best 
way  to  do  was  to  rent  a  room  or  two, 
is 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

and  take  my  meals  any  old  place.  I 
must  have  found  some  of  the  "old" 
places  first,  and  some  were  older  than 
others,  Bill.  This  fellar  said  there 
were  two  hundred  rooms  for  rent  in  the 
Westlake  district,  and  I  must  have  got 
around  to  199^  of  'em  before  I  felt  that 
I  had  had  my  money's  worth,  and  took 
his  word  for  the  few  I'd  missed.  I  got 
back  to  the  hotel  somehow,  but  suffer- 
ing Kansas! — my  head  ached,  my  knees 
had  given  out  altogether,  and  my  stom- 
ach rolled  and  pitched  so  I  couldn't 
eat  anything  for  days. 

Of  all  the  sights,  and  the  sounds,  and 
the  smells,  Bill,  I  ever  had  thrown  at 
me,  shoved  down  my  throat,  plastered 
all  over  me,  in  the  sixty  odd  years  I've 
been  on  earth,  I  found  'em  that  first 
day,  hunting  rooms. 
16 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

There  were  sights  in  some  of  those 
rooming  houses  that  old  P.  T.  Barnum 
would  have  mortgaged  his  circus  to 
have  got  hold  of — there  were  sounds  in 
those  rooming  houses  that  any  first- 
class  crazy  house  would  have  been 
ashamed  of;  and  smells — well,  I  can't 
seem  to  find  the  right  words  to  make  it 
plain  as  I  wish  I  could,  Bill.  Anyway, 
my  stomach  didn't  get  settled  down 
and  feel  at  home  for  over  a  month,  and 
for  weeks  every  blamed  automobile 
that  passed  me,  that  had  a  smell  to  it, 
cost  me  the  price  of  a  bromo  seltzer.  I 
had  to  take  so  many  bromo  seltzers 
that  some  of  the  drug  clerks  reached 
for  the  bottle  whenever  they  saw  me 
coming  in  the  door,  and  one  fellar  asked 
me  if  I  didn't  want  to  buy  out  half  the 
business.  I  thought  I  knew  just  about 
17 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

what  I  wanted  when  I  started  out  hunt- 
ing for  rooms,  but,  by  gum,  I  changed 
my  mind  worse  than  any  female  you 
ever  heard  tell  of. 

Why,  Bill,  you  don't  know  enough  to 
last  you  over  night,  after  you've  been 
through  half  a  dozen  of  those  rooming 
houses! 

Fact. 

I'll  bet  my  mouth  was  wide  open  and 
my  tongue  hanging  out  by  the  time 
I  got  to  the  last  place.  I  remember  I 
was  so  "all  in"  that  I  said  "yep"  to 
everything  the  woman  told  me,  and 
handed  out  $5.00  deposit  on  a  room  I 
wouldn't  put  my  old  shoes  in,  just  to 
stop  her  talking  and  give  her  a  chance  to 
get  her  second  wind.  Why,  she  looked 
like  she'd  bust  a  bloodvessel,  if  she  didn't 
stop  talking  long  enough  to  swallow. 

18 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Bill,  you  never  even  heard  of  a 
"kitchenette,"  did  you? 

Well,  by  gum,  I've  seen  one — yes  sir, 
had  to  live  to  be  65  years  old,  to  know 
what  a  "kitchenette"  was. 

No,  you're  wrong,  Bill — they  ain't 
anything  like  the  kids  get  in  their  heads 
at  school — nope — but  I  can  swear  that 
some  of  'em  was  alive,  for  the  landlady 
insisted  on  showing  me  just  how  much 
was  furnished  for  $25  a  month,  and 
some  things  must  have  been  thrown  in 
for  good  measure,  because  she  didn't 
mention  anything  extra  for  some  of  the 
things  /  saw. 

Now,  Bill,  a  "kitchenette"  is  a  kind 
of  a  room  that  the  fellar  that  built  the 
house  forgot  to  put  in  until  after  the 
house  was  finished,  and  then  woke  up 
and  saw  his  mistake.  So  he  finds  a 
19 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

ticket  and  rented  a  ten -dollar  room, 
with  a  disappearing  bed  and  a  sanitary 
mattress,  that  humped  up  in  the  mid- 
dle like  a  Parker  House  roll,  and  rested 
me  just  about  as  much  as  if  I'd  slept  on 
the  business  end  of  a  picket  fence  all 
night. 

And  I  don't  mean  the  kind  of  picket 
fence  that  has  been  whittled  off  by 
every  good-for-nothing  loafer  that  has 
ever  rubbed  up  against  it  —  neither 
do  I  mean  the  kind  Willie  and  his 
best  girl  sits  on  by  the  hour,  until 
the  milkman  comes  along  and  wakes 
'em  up — no  sir-ree,  I  mean  the  kind 
that  will  bore  a  hole  clean  through 
your  hide,  without  begging  your 
pardon. 

Say,  Bill,  ain't  this  the  coaxer, 
tho'? 


22 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

TO  LET— 

"SEE    SUNNY    ST.    LILIA." 
"BEST    PEOPLE   ON    EARTH." 

"SEE    SUNNY    ST.    LILIA." 
Finest,  Nearest,   Brightest, 

Latest,  Cleanest,  Sunniest, 

Cheapest,   Newest,   Pleasantest. 

Only  hotel  on  earth  with  all  outside  rooms.      (Unsurpassed,  in- 
comparable accommodations.) 
Opposite  Los  Angeles  High  School. 

NORTH    HILL   ST. 

Call  or  phone  Home  A3  344. 

no  Finest  Outside  Rooms  in  City. 

(Inconceivably  advantageously  located.) 

Admirably  arranged  conveniences,  free 

Electricity,  baths,   laundry,   phones,   gas. 

Magnificent  Unexcelled  California 

Panorama  Viewed  From  Our  Roof  Garden. 

TWO   ROOMS    FOR   HOUSEKEEPING. 

TEN   TO   FIFTEEN    DOLLARS   PER   MONTH. 

THREE   ROOMS    WITH    PRIVATE   BATH. 

$15   TO  $z$    PER  MONTH 

Make  investigation ;  have  discrimination j  give  consideration. 
Most  moderately  priced  rooms  in  America.  You  are  welcome  to 
compare. 

"WE    GIVE   YOU    YOUR   MONEY'S   WORTH." 
Five  minutes  from  Times  Office.     No  car  fare ;  two  blocks  from 
Courthouse j  easy  walking  distance  j  fine  residential  neighborhood. 
"Barrels  of  sunshine;"   "oceans  of  pure  mountain  air."      Cut 
out  this  adv.;  worth  dollars  to  you. 

23 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Now  you  know,  Bill,  I  could  be 
"shown"  without  any  trouble  why 
they  call  Pasadena  "Heaven/*  and 
Los  Angeles  the  "Angel  City,"  but,  by 
gum,  after  plugging  all  over  town  hunt- 
ing rooms  as  I  did,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
can  see  any  good  excuse  for  tacking  a 
"Saint"  onto  the  best  hotel  that  ever 
separated  you  from  your  money. 
Speaking  of  Heaven,  Bill,  'pears  to  me 
this  place  makes  Pasadena  and  Mt. 
Wilson  look  like  grease  spots  down  the 
front  of  your  vest. 


Ain't  no  use  getting  a 
crick  in  your  neck  look- 
ing for  Heaven — like  as 
not  you  just  stubbed 
your  toe  on  it,  and 
didn't  know  it. 


CHAPTER   II 


MT.  WILSON  AND 
PASADENA 


HE  trip  up  Mt. 
Wilson  makes 
me  heave  a  good 
many  sighs  to 
write  about,  Bill.  In  fact,  I 
heaved  so  many  sighs  for  a  couple 
of  weeks  after  that  trip,  that  I  had 
mighty  hard  work  making  anyone  be- 
lieve I  had  a  good  time.  But  I  did.  It 
was  worth  heaving  sighs  for  a  month  to 
take  that  trip — you  can't  just  exactly 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

see  it  that  way,  while  you  are  on  the 
trail,  but  afterwards — afterwards,  Bill, 
when  the  sore  spots  have  all  quit  their 
talking — when  your  liver  has  quit  gal- 
livanting around  inside  of  you,  and 
your  floating  kidney  has  been  lassoed 
and  trotted  back  into  place — then,  Bill, 
you  begin  to  remember  the  beauties  you 
saw  with  only  one  eye,  while  you  kept 
the  other  one  glued  on  the  blamed 
jackass  that  was  trying  his  best  to  give 
you  all  the  extras  he  could  think  of  for 
your  money. 

It  takes  four — five — six  or  seven 
hours  to  get  up  the  trail,  according  to 
your  mule,  and  it  only  took  me  some- 
where around  forty  minutes  to  come 
down.  Of  course,  most  people  don't 
hurry  so  on  the  down  trip,  but  you 
know  some  things  are  forced  upon  us 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

in  this  world,  and  that  jackass  of  mine 
certainly  knew  his  business. 

I  don't  know  how  to  swear  much, 
but  there  are  times  when  cuss-words 
come  kinder  natural  to  a  man,  and  I 
sure  did  surprise  myself,  Bill. 

There  were  some  wonderful  sights 
all  along  the  way,  and  the  glories  of  a 
Mt.  Wilson  sunset,  Bill,  can't  be  de- 
scribed with  a  stub  pen  that  scratches 
like  this  one  does. 

Nope — I'd  have  to  be  a  school  marm, 
and  know  the  dictionary  by  heart,  to 
find  the  kind  of  words  to  do  it  half  jus- 
tice, and  then,  your  education  has  been 
so  neglected,  Bill,  you  wouldn't  know 
what  I  was  driving  at. 

They  told  me  that  a  sunrise  beat  a 
sunset  all  to  smithereens,  but  I  didn't 
see  a  single  sunrise  while  I  was  up 
29 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

there,  for  about  the  time  the  sun  was 
climbing  over  the  peaks  I  was  getting 
in  my  heaviest  work  and,  next  to  eating 
custard  pie,  I'd  rather  sleep  than  do 
anything  on  earth. 

Yep — I  hope  if  I'm  ever  drowned, 
Bill,  I'll  be  drowned  in  custard  pie,  the 
real  deep  kind,  like  mother  used  to 
make. 

Mt.  Wilson  is  the  nearest  station  to 
Heaven  yours  truly  ever  expects  to  get. 
It's  six  thousand  feet  nearer  Heaven 
than  Pasadena  is,  but  you  can't  make 
Pasadena  people  see  it  that  way,  even 
if  you  measure  it  for  'em.  No  sir,  they 
ain't  got  no  time  to  argue  with  any 
fellar  with  a  tape  line.  Pasadena  is 
the  real  thing,  and  you  might  just  as 
well  let  every  blamed  one  of  'em  have 
the  last  word  about  it,  for  they've  all  got 
30 


WHEN    EAST   COMES   WEST 

their  fingers  crossed,  and  had  'em 
crossed  so  long,  by  gum,  they've  grown 
that  way. 

One  day  last  summer,  when  the  ther- 
mometer had  stood  just  about  all  it  in- 
tended to  take,  and  had  "rizz"  up  and 
sizzled  over  the  top  like  foam  on  a  glass 
of  soda,  I  stood  for  two  solid,  never-to- 
be-forgotten  hours  in  the  shade  of  a 
spreading  telephone  pole  with  my  fin- 
gers crossed,  legs  crossed,  and,  in  fact, 
so  cross  inside  and  out,  Bill,  I  didn't 
get  the  kinks  out  of  me  for  days.  I 
was  side  tracked,  waiting  for  a  street- 
car that  the  conductor  told  me  was 
liable  to  be  along  almost  any  minute, 
now, — mebbe! 

Well,  the  first  car  that  hove  in  sight 
was  loaded  to  the  muzzle,  and  it  didn't 
even  hesitate. 

31 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

The  second  kicked  up  such  a  Kansas 
cyclone  before  it  got  to  me,  that  not  a 
blamed  soul  on  board  knew  I  was 
there. 

Bill,  you  know  that  playful  little 
breeze  that  carried  off  the  pigsty  last 
summer  back  home,  and  scattered  our 
pork  all  over  the  neighborhood — you 
remember  it  ? 

Well,  the  rumpus  that  street  car 
stirred  up  on  its  way  down  hill  had 
that  cyclone  fricasseed  with  mushroom 
sauce. 

When  I  came  to,  I  remembered  I  was 
only  three  feet  from  the  sidewalk,  but 
somehow  I'd  lost  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass, Bill,  and  after  hunting  a  long 
while  for  the  sun,  and  locating  it,  I 
struck  out  for  shore. 

In  my  hurry  I  didn't  find  the  curb, 
32 


WHEN    EAST    COMES   WEST 

for  the  warning  toot  of  an  automobile — 
sou'  by  sou'west — decided  me  to  move 
on  immediately.  I  made  a  run,  and 
slid  along  the  gutter  on  my  stomach  for 
a  couple  of  yards,  cleaning  up  in  front 
of  some  woman's  house  without  charg- 
ing her  a  blamed  cent  for  it,  and  when 
I  picked  myself  up  and  tried  to  get  my 
bearings,  I'll  be  hanged  if  that  same 
woman  didn't  holler  out  the  window 
at  me,  "to  keep  off  the  grass — couldn't 
I  see  the  sign!" 

Now,  Bill,  you  know  there  are  mo- 
ments when  your  feelings  are  so  hurt 
you  can't  get  sassy  to  save  your  life. 
Well,  that  was  one  of  'em.  I  was  sure 
hurt,  inside  and  out,  and  I  knew  my 
appearance  was  against  me.  I  didn't 
dare  sass  her,  for  I  saw  a  bulldog,  with 
full-grown  teeth,  through  the  slats  in 

33 


67725 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

the  fence,  and  there  was  a  policeman 
coming  up  the  street. 

I'd  seen  many  a  man  run  in  on  sus- 
picion that  looked  a  whole  lot  better 
than  I  did,  Bill.  My  clothes  had  sud- 
denly changed  into  a  sunburnt,  punkin' 
color;  there  was  a  hole  big  as  my  fist 
in  one  of  my  pant  legs,  and  my  shirt- 
well,  Bill,  my  shirt  was  a  good  stand- 
off between  a  street  sweeper  and  the 
hole  in  one  of  mother's  doughnuts. 
But,  by  gum,  I  still  had  that  dog-gorned 
transfer  in  my  hand,  hanging  onto  it 
like  it  was  a  life  preserver. 

I  saw  another  car  go  by  with  a  "Take 
next  car"  sign  hanging  in  the  front 
window,  and  one  followed  five  minutes 
later  marked  "Special,"  but  I  had  long 
ago  lost  all  my  interest  in  street  cars, 
and  wouldn't  have  flagged  another  one 

34 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

of  'em  if  I'd  had  to  walk  back  to  Los 
Angeles. 

Pasadena  may  be  Heaven  under 
some  circumstances,  but  what  I  had  oc- 
casion to  call  it  that  day  was  a  shorter, 
more  forceful  word,  Bill,  and  rhymed 
with — well — it  was  a  long  way  from 
Heaven,  when  there  wasn't  any  street 
cars  running. 

I  found  a  kid  and  gave  him  a  quarter 
to  stay  there  and  use  up  that  blamed 
transfer,  so  I  could  get  even  with  the 
street  car  company. 

The  kid  was  willing — he  called  it  a 
"puddinV 

Mebbe  it  was — but  I'd  had  mine, 
and  I  ain't  stingy. 

The  only  real  thing  I've  got  against 
Pasadena,  Bill,  is,  that  they  have  snakes 
in  their  canyons  and  no  sure  remedy  in 

35 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

town  for  a  man  that  gets  bitten — nope, 
not  a  drop,  Bill. 

"Lydia  Pinkham's"  and  "Castoria" 
is  the  best  thing  they  can  do  for  you, 
even  if  you  show  'em  the  bite. 


Nature  makes  mighty 
few  mistakes;  now  don't 
think  I  mean  anything 
personal,  Bill ! 


CHAPTER    III 


THE   WHYS   AND   WHERE- 
FORES 

SlNCE    I've    lived 
in  this  boarding- 
house,  Bill,  we've 
only  changed 
landladies  seven  times  in  three 
months. 

Just  as  soon  as  I  get  used  to  one 
woman's  biscuits,  and  manage  to  get 
my  stomach  trained  down  to  her  kind 
of  cooking,  she  ups  and  sells  out  at  a 
profit. 

Mebbe  the  next  woman  that  tickles 

39 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

the  cook  stove  don't  know  a  biscuit 
from  a  door  knob,  and,  by  gum,  after 
you've  eaten  a  few  of  her  kind,  a  pack- 
age of  hard-tack  looks  mighty  good  to 
you. 

I'd  quit  staying  here  long  ago  if  it 
wasn't  for  a  little  redheaded,  freckled- 
faced  kid  named  Bennie  that  has 
kinder  adopted  me,  and  tags  along  with 
me  whenever  he  gets  a  chance. 

He's  a  cute  kid,  Bill — out  here  all 
alone,  and,  by  gum,  he's  so  homely  it 
would  make  the  tears  come  to  your 
eyes  just  to  look  at  him.  He's  some 
relation  to  the  landlady,  and  I  don't 
know  which  has  got  the  most  to  be 
sorry  for.  Says  he's  got  to  go  back 
home  to-morrow,  poor  kid,  and  he's 
cried  so  hard  about  it  for  the  last  week 

or  two  that  his  face  looks  like  he'd  run 

40 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

up  against  a  swarm  of  bees.  Can't  see 
his  eyes  at  all — nothing  there  but  the 
slits.  He's  promised  to  write  to  me  just 
as  soon  as  he  gets  home,  and  I've  prom- 
ised to  send  him  a  box  of  horned  toads 
and  tarantulas,  so  he  can  have  some 
fun  with  the  natives.  Bennie  says  he's 
going  to  be  President  some  day  when 
the  Democrats  get  half  a  show. 

Mebbe  he  will — I  dunno. 

There's  many  a  man  that  started  in 
on  a  farm,  and  landed  in  the — poor- 
house. 

Speaking  of  farms,  Bill — Southern 
California  is  one  great  big  valley  of 
mighty  fine  farms — big  farms  and  little 
farms,  all  kinds  of  farms  you  can  ask 
about  are  located  around  Los  Angeles. 

That  may  be  the  reason  San  Fran- 
cisco people  call  'em  "farmers"  down 
41 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

"here — yep,  and  sometimes  they  call  'em 
worse  things  than  that,  too,  Bill. 

Funny. 

Here  it  is,  one  great  big,  glorious 
State;  but  there's  a  hump  in  the  middle 
of  it  called  Tahachepi,  and  a  grouch 
at  both  ends — the  northern  end  carry- 
ing the  heaviest  load. 

That  hump  of  mountains  is  just  as 
much  a  dividing  line  of  brotherly  love 
as  if  it  was  a  high  board  fence  reaching 
clear  to  Heaven. 

There  ain't  no  imagination  about  it, 
either.  This  grand  old  State  ain't 
pulling  together  any  better  than  that 
pair  of  mules  you  sold  me  last  summer 
at  a  bargain. 

No  sir-ree. 

Los  Angeles  may  have  a  few  farmers 

browsing  round  its  green  hills,  but  they 

42 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

don't  keep  their  hearts  in  cold  storage, 
by  gum,  and  it  don't  make  any  differ- 
ence where  you  come  from,  Bill,  you're 
mighty  welcome  all  the  same. 

Why  don't  they  make  two  States  out 
of  it? 

That's  what  many  a  man  wants  to 
know.  You  wouldn't  find  a  tear  in  the 
eye  of  either  one  of  'em  when  the  sepa- 
ration took  place.  Let  this  part  still  be 
Southern  California,  and  all  beyond 
the  divide  just  "  Frisco." 

Then  both  of  'em  would  be  happy  as 
clams,  and  a  stranger  in  California 
wouldn't  ask  so  many  "whys  and 
wherefores." 

In  Southern  California  there  are  im- 
mense truck  farms  reaching  out  in  all 
directions. 

Flower  farms — carnations,  calla-lily, 

43 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

sweet-pea  and  violets — acres  of  'em,  in- 
stead of  the  little  old  eight  by  ten  gar- 
dens we  have  back  home. 

Pigeon  farms  down  by  the  river-bed — 
where  you  can  see  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  fluttering,  flying, 
cooing  birds  any  day  in  the  year. 

Ostrich  farms — where  the  poor  fel- 
lars  start  in  an  egg  and  come  out 
feather  dusters. 

Alligator  farms — where  the  'gators 
start  in,  wiggly  little  "critters,"  and 
come  out  traveling  bags,  hand  bags 
and  pocketbooks;  and  frog  farms, 
Bill,  that  are  responsible  for  more  cus- 
sin'  than  any  cat  concert  your  back 
fence  was  ever  guilty  of. 

Frogs'  legs  are  all  right  when  they're 
fried.  Bill,  but  they  don't  mean  much 
to  a  man  who  needs  sleep  mighty  bad, 

44 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

unless  they're  served  to  him  hot  with 
melted  butter  and  a  stein  of  beer. 

I  ain't  had  any — I  mean  frogs'  legs, 
not  beer — since  I  came  to  town.  Our 
landlady  ain't  lived  in  California  long 
enough  to  know  a  dish  of  frogs'  legs 
from  a  dish  of  stewed  prunes — anyway, 
if  she  does,  she's  keeping  it  to  herself. 

She  says  prunes  are  awful  healthy — 
awful — mebbe  they  are,  I  dunno. 

But  /  ain't  sick — except  of  stewed 
prunes,  and  I'm  so  dog-gorned  sick  of 
stewed  prunes  that  my  stomach  gets 
right  down  on  its  knees  and  says  its 
prayers  every  time  a  dish  of  'em  comes 
on  the  table. 


45 


You  can't  blame  the 
wife  who  has  been  made 
to  stand  by  use  of  a 
curb  bit,  and  who  has 
trotted  in  harness  until 
she  is  wind-broken,  for 
wishing  she  was  a  single 
footer,  can  you,  Bill  ? 


CHAPTER   IV 


OUT  IN  GOD'S  COUNTRY 


ELL   me,   Bill, 
where  on  earth 
could   you   travel 
one  hundred  miles 
for  one  hundred  cents  ? 

Nowhere,  but  in  Los  Angeles! 
And  it's  the  most  for  your  money  you 
ever  thought  you'd  get,  too. 

And  let  me  tell  you,  some  of  those 
miles  are  worth  dollars  instead  of  cents 
to  anyone  on  earth.  Some  of  those 
miles  along  the  glorious  old  ocean 

49 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

would  make  you  get  mighty  quiet  in- 
side all  of  a  sudden,  Bill,  and  before 
you  knew  it,  you'd  be  thanking  the 
Good  Father  for  being  allowed  to  live 
and  breathe  into  your  moth-eaten  old 
lungs  such  air  as  only  California  is 
blessed  with. 

If  there's  a  mite  of  "worth  while"  in 
your  make-up — if  there's  an  ounce  of 
the  "real  thing"  in  your  soul,  it's  bound 
to  come  to  the  top  on  a  trip  like  this, 
Bill,  or  you  ain't  worth  shoveling  up 
and  dumping  into  the  dirt  barrel. 

If  you  can  sit  still  and  see  that  great 
stretch  of  ocean  all  a-glisten  in  the  sun 
— if  you  can  look  up  overhead  and  see 
a  sky  that's  bluer  than  the  eyes  your 
sweetheart  used  to  have — if  you  can 
throw  your  head  back  and  take  in  a 
breath  of  air  that  reaches  clear  way 
50 


WHEN    EAST    COMES   WEST 

down  to  your  corns,  b'gosh,  and  tastes 
good  all  the  way  going  down — if  you 
can  do  all  these  things  and  a  whole  lot 
more,  and  not  find  a  drop  of  water  in 
the  corner  of  your  eye  or  on  the  end  of 
your  nose,  why,  Bill,  you'd  call  Para- 
dise itself  Lonesometown. 

Nope — there  ain't  many  of  us  that 
don't  get  a  "still"  feeling  inside  of  us 
at  times,  for  there's  a  spark  of  some- 
thing, clear  'way  down  inside  of  some- 
where, that  we  all  have  to  listen  to  some- 
times, only  it  ain't  allowed  to  talk  very 
often. 

We  keep  it  muzzled  or  chloroformed 
until  it's  so  little  and  frail  that,  when- 
ever it  tries  to  make  itself  heard,  its 
voice  is  so  pitifully  weak  we're  liable  to 
be  ashamed  of  it,  and  choke  it  off  with 
a  "made"  laugh. 

51 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Nope,  I  ain't  joined  any  church  since 
I  got  here — I'm  only  a  traveler  out  here 
in  God's  country,  and  I'm  just  glad 
I'm  living,  that's  all. 

Bill,  I  wish  you  could  raise  enough 
dough  to  get  out  here  before  you 
die. 

It  would  even  be  worth  while  to 
mortgage  the  farm  and  find  out  that 
there  is  something  else  in  the  world  be- 
sides digging  potatoes  and  feeding  the 
pigs.  You  ain't  done  much  else  for 
forty  years  to  my  knowledge. 

Your  old  woman  ain't  seen  nothing 
but  a  sink  full  of  dirty  dishes  and  a  tub 
full  of  dirty  clothes  for  over  forty  years. 
Think  of  it,  Bill,  just  think  of  it! 
She'd  drop  dead  if  you  ever  gave  her 
one  measly  dollar  to  spend  all  by  her- 
self and  forgot  to  ask  her  what  she  did 
52 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

with  it.  Think  of  that,  too,  Bill,  while 
you're  dusting  out  the  cobwebs  in  your 
conscience. 

Life  ain't  much  to  a  man  on  a  farm, 
and  for  a  woman — well,  if,  without 
knowing  it,  that  old  woman  of  yours 
got  hold  of  the  wrong  ticket  when  she 
died,  and  finally  landed  in  the  place 
where  you  can't  buy  ice  for  love  nor 
money,  Bill,  she'd  only  fold  her  hands, 
poor  thing,  and  say:  "Well,  it's  kinder 
warm  here,  and  I  always  hoped  I  could 
have  just  one  dish  of  ice-cream  when  I 
got  to  Heaven,  but,  no  matter — it's  a 
change,  anyway,  and  I  can  get  along 
somehow,  I  reckon." 

When  I  took  this  one-hundred-mile 
trip,  Bill,  my  back  ached  all  day  long, 
carrying  around  the  big  white  souvenir 
button  they  nailed  on  us  when  we 

53 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

bought  our  ticket.  Why,  Bill,  that  but- 
ton was  as  big  as  an  eating  house  bis- 
cuit, and  just  about  as  heavy.  We 
started  out  with  a  hungry  looking 
crowd,  a  good-looking  motorman  and 
conductor,  and  a  "down-to-date" 
guide,  that  certainly  knew  everything 
that  ever  happened  in  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, and  a  few  things  that  even  the 
oldest  inhabitant  had  forgotten. 

Here's  the  little  "song  and  dance" 
he  handed  out  to  us  when  we  started 
that  changed  a  grouchy,  dyspeptic- 
looking  bunch  of  lemons  into  a  lot  of 
overgrown  kids  that  forgot  how  old 
they  were  on  their  last  birthday. 

"Now,  good  people,  this  is  the 
hundred-mile  trip  of  a  hundred  sights 
for  a  hundred  cents,  and  if  you'll 
take  the  trouble  to  count  them,  you'll 

54 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

see  I've  given  you  good  measure  for 
your  cart-wheel. 

"We're  all  out  on  an  old-fashioned 
picinic  to-day ;  we're  all  going  to  for- 
get ourselves  and  be  children  again, 
and  if  we  take  a  notion,  we're  going 
to  eat  peanuts  and  popcorn  and  drink 
red  lemonade,  and  forget  that  our  corns 
ache  or  our  rheumatism  twinges  a  lit- 
tle at  times. 

"We're  just  children  at  heart,  every 
one  of  us,  whether  we're  sixteen  or 
sixty,  and  when  we  loosen  up  and  see 
the  fellow  next  to  us  doing  likewise, 
we'll  feel  just  as  tickled  inside  as  we 
used  to  in  the  old  days,  when  we  took 
hold  of  daddy's  hand  and  started  out  to 
see  the  circus.  Just  one  day  of  letting 
down  the  bars  and  romping  in  God's 
garden  is  worth  more  to  us  than  many 
55 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

a  dollar  will  buy,  and  I  want  every  one 
of  you  to  say  to  the  folks  when  you  get 
home:  'Well,  I  got  more  for  my 
money,  inside  and  out,  on  "Tilton's 
Trolley  Trip,"  than  I've  got  hairs  on 
my  head/ 

"Now,  don't  blush  if  you're  bald- 
headed  ;  just  call  it  a  high  forehead 
to-day,  and  see  how  little  you  care 
about  it. 

"'Long  as  your  heart  is  in  the  right 
place,  and  your  smile's  the  kind  that 
won't  wash  off,  I'll  guarantee  to  do  the 
rest,  and  land  you  in  the  "Angel  City" 
with  a  better  opinion  of  yourself  and 
Southern  California  in  general,  than 
ten  times  one  hundred  cents  could  buy 
anywhere  else  on  earth." 

And  so  we  started  out  to  see  the 
sights. 

56 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

We  all  gaped  at  the  Giant  Grape 
Vine,  the  "  Jim  Jeffries"  of  all  grape- 
vines, whose  trunk  (the  grapevine's, 
not  Jim's)  measured  eight  feet  around, 
and  whose  leaves  were  twelve  inches 
in  length. 

When  I  tell  you,  Bill,  they  gather 
two  and  a  half  tons  of  grapes  off  this 
vine  in  a  season,  you'll  think  I'm  lying, 
but  I  ain't.  It's  a  California  story  all 
right,  but  it's  a  true  one  just  the  same. 

I  saw  a  fifty -year -old  rubber  tree 
that  was  brought  out  here  a  little  slip 
in  a  pot,  and  now  it  towers  over  all  the 
houses,  and  is  worth  losing  your  dinner 
to  see.  They  told  me  they  gathered 
two  crops  of  rubber  boots  off  this  tree 
every  year,  and  had  now  grafted  it  to 
automobile  tires. 

Yes,  I  know,  Bill,  it  sounds  kinder 

57 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

"fishy/'  but  I  saw  the  tree — crop  had 
just  been  picked. 

We  passed  the  town  of  Watts  on  the 
way  to  the  ocean,  and  I  wanted  to  see  it 
mighty  bad,  I'd  heard  so  much  about 
it,  but  when  we  slowed  up,  there  was  an 
ice  wagon  standing  right  square  in 
front  of  the  town,  so  I  missed  it,  by 
gum,  after  all. 

This  hundred-mile  trip  I've  been 
telling  you  about  is  second  cousin  to 
the  "Balloon  Trip,"  another  trolley 
ride  that  takes  you  scooting  all  over  the 
country  and  brings  you  home  in  time 
for  dinner.  Why  they  call  it  the 
"  Balloon  Trip  "  I  dunno,  for  it's  all  on 
land,  Bill ;  nothing  up  in  the  air  about 
it  except  the  female  that  sat  next  to  me 
in  the  car  and  growled  all  the  way 
down  and  all  the  way  back.  I  tried  to 
58 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

lose  her  after  the  first  ten  minutes,  but 
she  hung  on  to  me  like  a  sewing  ma- 
chine agent,  because  she  said  I  looked 
so  much  like  her  first  husband. 

Since  I  took  this  ride  I've  found  out 
why  every  tenderfoot  that  goes  back 
East  has  to  pay  excess  baggage. 

Moonstones! 

Yep — one  of  the  sights  we  took  in 
was  Moonstone  Beach,  and  I'll  bet  the 
only  time  I  really  ever  got  what  you 
might  call  "loaded"  was  on  moon- 
stones, Bill.  By  gum,  I  carted  round 
more  than  fifteen  pounds  of  'em  in  the 
hot  sun  for  four  mortal  hours,  and  all 
the  time  I  kept  wondering  what  in 
thunder  made  me  so  tired. 

When  I  got  home  and  emptied  my 
clothes,  all  I  had  left  was  a  dime  with 
a  hole  in  it,  and  about  a  quart  of  sand 

59 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

in  each  shoe,  but  I'll  bet  I  had  $4.98 
worth  of  moonstones  that  would  easy 
cost  me  $15  to  have  polished  up  in 
shape  to  be  worth  looking  at — if  you 
liked  moonstones,  and  I  never  did  like 
'em,  anyway. 

When  you  buy  your  ticket  for  the 
"Balloon  Trip,"  they  hand  you  out  a 
little  blue  silk  ribbon  to  pin  on,  to  ad- 
vertise the  fact  that  you  are  a  "Rube" 
to  everyone  who  takes  the  time  to  gap 
at  you. 

After  I  pinned  mine  on,  I  felt  like  a 
"W.  C.  T.  U."  out  for  an  airing  on  the 
water  wagon,  and  the  only  thing  that 
reconciled  me  to  wear  the  blamed 
thing  was  the  fact  that  the  stops  we 
made  on  the  trip  to  the  ocean  were 
"dry  ones." 

The  conductor  told  me  the  only  way 
60 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

I  could  get  even  a  smell  of  "Here's 
Hoping"  was  to  go  in  bathing,  be 
taken  with  a  cramp,  holler  "Help," 
and  when  they  dragged  me  out,  if  I  laid 
still  enough  for  them  to  think  I  was 
dead,  they  might  pour  some  of  the  aw- 
ful stuff  down  my  throat  to  be  sure 
about  it. 

I  had  a  good  mind  to  take  a  chance 
at  it,  but  our  time  was  short,  and  the 
guide  said  he'd  tried  it  once  himself, 
and  all  he  got  was  some  Jamaica  ginger. 


61 


Chickens  always  come 
home  to  set,  no  matter 
where  they  roost. 


CHAPTER  V 


HOW  TO  SPEND  YOUR 
MONEY 


OU  know,  Bill, 
when  a  tender- 
foot lands  in  Los 
Angeles,  it  comes 
just  as  natural  for  every  one  of 
'em  to  do  the  same  thing  the  fel- 
lar  did  before  him,  as  it  does  for  a  six 
months'  old  baby  to  stick  everything 
into  his  mouth  he  can  lay  his  hands 
on. 

Yep,  there  are  a  lot  of  things  in  the 
way  of  "indoocements"  in  Los  Ange- 
65 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

les  that  I'll  bet  ain't  been  missed  by  a 
"show-me"  since  the  town  put  on  its 
first  suspenders. 

There's  Mt.  Lowe,  for  instance,  a 
most  wonderful  trip,  that  every  tourist 
who  has  the  price  just  about  breaks  his 
neck  to  take,  and  when  he  looks  up  the 
incline  and  sees  what  a  blamed  good 
chance  he's  got  of  breaking  it,  he'd 
back  out  and  go  home,  if  he  wasn't 
afraid  some  fool  woman  would  laugh 
at  him. 

Then  there's  Chinatown,  a  collec- 
tion of  smells  you  would  never  believe 
could  be  gathered  together  under  the 
blue  canopy  of  Heaven.  Why,  after 
leaving  the  rose  gardens  on  the  other 
side  of  town,  and  dropping  into  this  nest 
of  pigtails,  it's  like  finding  a  dilapi- 
dated piece  of  limburger  cheese  'way 

66 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

down  in  the  middle  of  marshmellow 
sundae. 

Marshmellow  sundae?  Nope,  ain't 
nothing  to  do  with  a  Methodist  prayer 
meeting,  Bill;  you'll  have  to  guess 
again. 

They  grow  'em  out  here;  not  Metho- 
dist prayer  meetings,  but  marshmellow 
sundaes.  Yep,  they  grow  'em  on  sody- 
water  trees,  great,  big,  juicy  ones, 
with  a  cherry  on  top.  But  back  to 
Chinatown,  with  its  pigtails  and  punk! 
Why,  Bill,  I  smelt  of  punk  for  a  week 
after  I  went  on  that  trip  through 
Chinatown. 

What's  punk  ? 

Why,  punk  is — er — punk  is,  well, 
darn  it,  it's  just  punk,  that's  all.  Don't 
ask  so  many  fool  questions,  Bill. 

It  ain't  a  bunch  of  honeysuckle, 
67 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

b'gosh,  I  can  tell  you  that  much.  Go 
out  in  the  back  yard  and  burn  up  a  pair 
of  old  rubber  boots — then  shut  your 
eyes  and  smell!  Just  as  good  as  a  trip 
through  Chinatown,  and  a  whole  lot 
cheaper. 

Here's  a  Chinese  poem,  Bill — hon- 
est— and  by  the  looks  of  it,  I  should 
say  the  " chink"  that  wrote  it  was  a 
bum  writer. 

Yep,  I  know  it  looks  like  turkey 
tracks  in  the  snow  back  home,  but 
it's  the  real  genuine  article  just  the  same. 
Think  of  a  fellar  writing  a  love  letter  to 
his  best  girl  and  handing  out  a  thing 
like  that,  Bill!  Why,  I  can  smell  punk 
just  looking  at  it.  Fact;  that  poem  is 
chuck  full  of  punk  to  any  one  that  ever 
got  a  whiff  of  it. 

I  can't  read  the  blamed  thing  for 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

you,  Bill,  but,  by  gum,  I  believe  I  can 
dance  it. 

Then  there's  the  Chutes — no  shooting 
the  day  I  was  there — place  looked  like 
Garvanza  on  a  busy  day — game  law 
must  have  been  on.  I  bought  out  the 
peanut  stand  and  filled  up  the  animals, 
drank  a  couple  of  glasses  of  beer  hop- 
ing I'd  "see  things,"  but  nothing 
showed  up,  so  I  decided  to  wait  until 
next  Fourth  of  July  and  go  out  again. 
They  say  they  have  to  hang  the  "stand- 
ing room  only"  sign  out  on  holidays, 
and  I'd  rather  hang  on  to  a  strap  in  a 
crowd  any  time  than  to  have  the  whole 
car  to  myself,  Bill. 

Then    there's    Santa    Monica    and 

Ocean    Park — no    prettier    spots    on 

earth.     Born  and  brought  up  together, 

used  the  same  soap,  and  wiped  their 

70 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

face  on  the  same  towel,  but  they  ain't 
no  relation,  no  sir-ree;  they  don't  love 
each  other  worth  a  bean. 

Then  comes  Venice — next  door 
neighbor  to  Ocean  Park;  so  close  to- 
gether they  could  have  their  arms 
around  each  other  if  they'd  a  mind  to; 
but  nope,  they've  both  got  a  chip  on 
their  shoulder  waiting  for  some  one  to 
bump  into  'em. 

But  never  mind.  The  old  fellar 
that  figured  out  how  he  could  trans- 
form that  cast-off  land  of  bogs  and 
slime  into  the  beautiful  little  "dago" 
city  he  has,  is  worth  taking  your  hat 
off  to,  Bill.  They  say  he  had  an  up- 
hill fight  from  start  to  finish,  and  he 
ain't  finished  yet.  Some  few  people 
down  there  thought  they  saw  his  finish, 
but  he  fooled  'em. 
71 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

A  man  that  will  go  through  what  he 
has  "for  his  country"  and  still  be  able 
to  smile  is  made  of  the  kind  of  stuff 
that  will  wash  without  fading. 

Then  there's  Catalina  Island;  that's 
another  sure  thing  in  the  way  of  sights 
that  every  tourist  takes  in.  That  trip 
will  flatten  out  your  pocket-book  and 
likewise  your  stomach,  and  do  more 
fancy  work  to  your  liver  in  about  three 
shakes  of  a  lamb's  tail  than  a  healthy 
windmill  inside  of  our  diaphragm  could 
figure  out  in  a  month  and  a  half. 

The  water  between  here  and  Cata- 
lina has  been  up  and  a-coming  since 
Time  began,  and  if  it  ain't  the  meanest, 
dog-gorndest  piece  of  water  that  ever 
picked  a  fight  with  a  man,  then  your 
Uncle  Eben  don't  know  how  old  he  is. 

It  does  beat  the  Dutch,  Bill,  how  a  fel- 

72 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

lar  will  blow  in  good  hard-earned  cash, 
just  to  find  out  how  it  feels  to  wish  he 
was  dead. 

Another  beach  is  called  Playa  Del 
Rey;  in  plain  U.  S.  everyday  talk  is 
just  King  of  Beaches.  I  don't  know 
whether  its  French  or  Dago,  Bill,  or 
whether  the  fellar  that  named  it  was 
just  trying  to  see  what  he  could  do  if 
they  gave  him  long  enough  rope. 

Anyway,  I  got  a  fish  dinner  down 
there  that  I'll  remember  as  long  as  I 
live.  Yes  sir-ree. 

Got  a  bone  in  my  throat — that's  rea- 
son enough,  ain't  it  ?  Good  dinner — 
fine — but  I  lost  money  on  it,  b'gosh, 
for  that  blamed  fish  bone  went  down 
with  the  first  mouthful.  I  tried  to  get 
'em  to  give  me  my  money  back,  but 
there  was  nothing  doing.  They 

73 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

claimed  I'd  spoilt  the  shape  of  the  fish, 
and  they  couldn't  sell  it  to  anybody 
else. 

I  told  'em  to  go  ahead  and  make  fish 
chowder  out  of  it — I'd  give  'em  back  the 
bone  just  as  soon  as  I  could  find  it,  but 
they  was  so  blamed  pig-headed  about 
it,  they  said  they  couldn't  see  it  that 
way.. 

I  told  'em  I  had  given  'em  a  mighty 
good  idea,  and  I'd  bet  a  barrel  of  hard 
cider  the  next  fellar  that  ordered  fish 
chowder  down  there  would  "see  it  that 
way." 

Gosh,  Bill,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  order  a 
fried  egg,  can't  tell,  might  have  got  a 
wishbone  in  my  throat! 


74 


The  top  rounds  of  the 
ladder  are  broad  and 
secure — it's  the  bottom 
ones  that  are  so  blamed 
slippery,  b'gosh. 


CHAPTER   VI 


WHAT   KEEPS   THE   POT 
A-BOILING 


OS  ANGELES  is 
the  best  lighted 
city  in  the  world, 
Bill — this  is  pure, 
unadulterated  truth,  every  single 
word  of  it. 
Of  course,  there  are  some  spots 
around  the  edges  of  town  where  you 
have  to  feel  your  way  along  the  fences 
to  be  sure  you're  still  on  the  sidewalk, 
but  if  you're  sober,  you'll  soon  get  to 

77 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

know  just  about  how  far  you  are  from 
your  boarding  house  by  the  "feel"  of 
each  fence,  and  if  you  ain't  sober,  every 
blamed  post  is  a  good  old  friend,  reach- 
ing out  a  helping  hand  to  you.  By 
gum,  I  named  every  one  of  'em,  Bill, 
and  many's  the  night  I've  stood  and 
talked  an  hour  or  so  with  'em  on  the 
way  home.  I  got  enough  courage  from 
each  one  of  'em  to  brace  up  and  go  on 
to  the  next,  and  before  I  had  really 
talked  all  I  wanted  to,  I  was  home.  So 
you  see,  Bill,  street  lights  are  mighty 
fine  sometimes,  but  there  are  times 
when  the  city  seems  to  be  wasting 
money.  But  Los  Angeles  don't  count 
the  pennies  wasted,  or  the  dollars  either 
for  that  matter,  whenever  she  wants 
anything  and  wants  it  bad. 
No  sir-ree. 

78 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

A  while  ago  they  figured  out  that 
they  wanted  more  water,  and  they 
wanted  all  they  wanted  of  it,  too;  so, 
at  a  cost  of  $23,000,000,  the  "Angel 
City"  will  soon  have  a  water  supply 
that  the  rest  of  the  country  will  get 
"pop-eyed"  over. 

And  then  they  woke  up  to  the  fact 
that  their  roads  were  a  little  the  worse 
for  wear — kinder  run  down  at  the  heel 
and  frazzled  out  round  the  edges — so 
they  voted  $3,000,000  worth  of  good 
roads'  bonds,  and  by  so  doing  the  coun- 
try out  there  will  have  two  more  things 
to  swell  up  over.  Only  goes  to  show 
how  "big"  they  do  things  in  Southern 
California,  Bill,  and  that's  just  what 
keeps  the  pot  a-boiling  out  here. 

This  town  is  the  first  bidder  at  the 
sale,  and  the  last  bidder  too,  by  gum, 

79 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

and  when  any  town  looks  mighty  wise, 
and  kinder  winks  its  eye,  and  thinks 
its  going  to  beat  her  out,  it  ain't 
reckoned  with  the  Angel  City  Booster 
Club.  It's  the  biggest  club  on  earth, 
Bill,  for  every  man,  woman  and  child 
that  lives  here  (and  there  are  over 
300,000  of  'em)  is  an  honorary  mem- 
ber. I  joined  the  second  day  I  got 
here,  and  hope  I'll  be  a  director  before 
I'm  much  older. 

The  "king-pin,"  Bill,  is  a  fellar 
named — well,  now,  I  clean  forgot  it. 

Made  me  think  of  Rockyfellar  the 
minute  they  told  me  who  he  was,  be- 
cause there  was  something  about  a 
"Wig"  in  it.  Anyway,  he's  a  dandy, 
and  he's  the  one  that  kinder  "sicks" 
'em  on  out  here,  and  before  they  know 

it,  Bill,  every  man,  big  and  little,  is 

80 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

barking    so    loud  the    whole    blamed 
world  is  sitting  up  taking  notice. 
Fact. 

Why,  you  know  old  Si  Simpkins 
back  home,  the  fellar  that  run  for  Sena- 
tor, and  didn't  have  any  more  show 
than  a  rabbit ;  well,  he  wrote  me  a  letter 

the  other  day  and  addressed  it 

Eben  Slocum, 

California, 

Los  Angeles, 

and  asked  me  in  the  letter  what  part  of 
Los  Angeles  California  was  in. 

Speaking  about  street  lights,  Bill, 
there  are  four  or  five  streets  in  the 
Angel  City  that  are  even  more  beautiful 
than  "Little  Nemo"  ever  dreamed 
about.  Looks  like  the  town  is  dressed 
up  for  company  every  night,  month  in 
and  month  out.  Miles  of  light,  Bill, 
81 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

miles  of  it,  and  it  burns  from  dusk  till 
midnight. 

Kinder  makes  you  throw  out  your 
chest  to  know  you're  even  boarding  in 
the  Angel  City,  no  matter  if  your  land- 
lady does  turn  off  the  gas  at  9:30.  She 
don't  run  the  town,  thank  goodness. 
She's  o^ly  a  poor,  weather-beaten 
down-easter,  here  to  make  a  dollar. 
Lots  of  'em  bring  their  little  stingy  ideas 
along  with  'em,  Bill,  but  after  they've 
been  here  a  while,  they  get  ashamed  of 
themselves,  and  let  it  burn  till  9:45  on 
holidays. 

California  is  too  big  to  live  in  and 
stay  small — yep,  even  if  you're  broke. 
You've  either  got  to  warm  up  and  hold 
out  a  glad  hand  to  your  fellow  men  or 
quit  the  country.  Ain't  no  place  out 
here  for  little  minds  and  little  souls, 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Bill;  nope,  country's  too  all  fired 
big. 

The  other  day  I  cut  loose  from  town, 
and  got  out  into  the  great  open  country 
around  Los  Angeles.  For  months, 
every  morning  when  I  pulled  up  the 
shades  and  looked  out  over  the  house- 
tops at  the  great  wall  of  mountains 
that  guards  this  beautiful  fertile  val- 
ley, I've  had  a  hankering  to  leave  the 
hustle  and  bustle  of  town,  and  just  go 
over  to  those  old  mountains  and  forget 
it  all. 

Seems  like  they've  been  a-calling  me 
all  these  days — seems  like  I'd  known 
'em  ever  since  I've  known  anything — 
seems  like  they  keep  a-reaching  out  to 
me  like  a  loving  mother  does  to  a  tired 
child,  and  altho'  I  know  I'm  a  long 
ways  from  a  child,  Bill,  there's  many  a 
83 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

time  when  a  hungry  feeling  gets  me, 
and  I  honestly  wish  I  was  just  a  tired 
little  kid  once  more,  with  my  old  moth- 
er's arms  wrapped  tight  around  me. 
I'd  make  a  pretty  good  lapful  now, 
but  Pll  wager  she'd  be  glad  to  stand  it, 
if  it  was  only  possible. 

Bill,  don't  you  ever  shame  that  kid 
of  yours  for  crawling  up  in  his  mother's 
lap — let  him  crawl  up  there  and  be 
loved  until  he's  so  long-legged  he  has 
to  wrap  his  feet  around  the  rockers  to 
keep  from  interfering.  Don't  you  ever 
shame  him,  Bill — it  will  make  a  better 
man  of  him,  and  he'll  be  a  better  life- 
partner  for  some  honest  little  woman, 
later  on. 

An  old  mother's  love  can't  hurt  any 
man  on  earth,  Bill,  no  matter  how  old 
he  gets  to  be,  and  when  you  find  the 
84 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

kind  of  fellar  that  turns  up  his  nose  at 
the  truest  love  the  Good  Father  ever 
put  in  the  heart  of  a  human,  keep  your 
eye  on  him,  Bill — he'll  bear  watch- 
ing. 

Well,  by  gum,  some  "know-it-all" 
told  me  those  mountains  were  only  a 
stone's  throw  from  Pasadena — only  a 
stone's  throw,  mind  you — just  a  nice 
little  walk  before  breakfast — would  give 
you  a  dandy  appetite,  etc.,  etc.,  but, 
thank  goodness,  I  started  out  on  a  full 
stomach,  Bill,  or  I  never  would  have 
been  here  to  tell  the  tale.  I  was  so 
tired  before  I  got  even  half  way  that  I 
hired  a  kid  to  drive  me  up  into  the  foot- 
hills, and  when  he  said  "Golong"  and 
drove  away  and  left  me,  I  felt  like  a  lost 
sheep  a  long  ways  from  the  feeding 
grounds. 

85 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

But  I  wasn't  lonesome — nope — 
kinder  felt  like  I  had  father,  mother, 
and  all  my  relations  just  back  of  me,  up 
in  the  canyon;  and  I  shut  my  eyes,  Bill, 
and  dreamed  I  was  just  a  little  kid 
again,  going  fishing,  with  my  mouth 
full  of  worms  for  bait. 

But,  of  course,  we  all  have  to  wake 
up,  and  I  tell  you,  Bill,  there  ain't  no 
use  swelling  up  and  blowing  about  how 
big  you  are  in  this  world.  Ain't  no  use 
of  sticking  your  hands  in  your  pockets 
and  strutting  around  like  a  turkey 
gobbler,  with  all  the  gold  fillings  in  your 
front  teeth  shined  up  like  headlights  on 
a  behind  time  overland  train,  because 
it  don't  mean  anything,  after  all,  Bill. 
If  you  could  just  stand  in  front  of  that 
big  rock  pile,  called  the  Sierra  Madres, 
for  a  minute  with  me,  it  would  surprise 

86 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

you  how  quick  you  would  shrivel  up 
and  look  like  a  piece  of  lemon  peel 
that  some  poor  fellar  had  just  slipped 
up  on. 

The  longer  I  looked  at  those  moun- 
tains, the  more  I  began  to  realize  what 
a  measly,  miserable,  little  shrimp  I  was, 
anyway. 

Looked  like  I  was  just  about  as  im- 
portant and  necessary  to  keep  this  old 
world  going  round  as  a  little  green 
worm  I  saw  crawling  under  a  leaf;  and 
I  had  a  pretty  good  opinion  of  myself, 
too,  when  I  started  out. 

I  sat  down  and  listened  to  the  birds 
singing  all  around  me,  and,  Bill,  mebbe 
you  don't  think  I  listened  for  rattle- 
snakes, too,  at  the  same  time,  for  Pasa- 
dena was  the  nearest  town,  and  al- 
though they  have  a  "Red  Cross"  drug 
87 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

store  there,  there  ain't  a  blamed  drop 
of  emergency  medicine  in  stock. 

No  "first-aid-to-the-iniured"  there, 
Bill. 

Ain't  it  a  shame! 


If  every  gold  brick  was 
red  hot,  you'd  still  find 
men  reaching  for  'em 
with  a  shovel,  Bill. 


CHAPTER   VII 


COUNTING   MY   MONEY— 
MEBBE! 


Y  gum,  Bill,  I  own 
more  oil  stock 
than  that  man 
Rockyfellar  does. 
I've  got  stock  in  every  blamed 
company  that  ever  opened  up, 
from  Los  Angeles  to  the  City  of  Mexico. 
Some  of  it  is  paid  for,  some  of  it  is 
half  paid  for,  and  some  of  it  never  will 
be  paid  for. 

Some  of  it  is  mine,  only  it  ain't — in- 
91 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

stallment  plan,  Bill — and  I'm  going  to 
let  go  of  every  share  of  it. 

They're  the  only  ones  I  can  let  go  of, 
b'gosh;  the  others  are  mine  for  "keeps." 

Why,  Bill,  I've  got  a  bunch  of  oil 
stock  that  would  choke  an  elephant, 
and  I've  counted  up  my  money — on 
paper — and  figured  out  I'll  have  just 
$3>333>333  inside  of  the  next  six  months, 
if  I  don't  wake  up  in  the  meantime. 

I've  looked  for  dividends  so  long, 
Bill,  that  the  doctor  says  I'm  liable  to 
have  stigmatism  of  both  eyes,  but  when 
those  dividends  show  up — well,  like  as 
not  I'll  send  you  a  season  ticket  to  Cali- 
fornia. Season's  good  the  year  round 
out  here,  so  I'll  bet  you'll  work  that 
ticket  till  it  hollers  "help."  If  every- 
thing these  oil  fellars  tell  me  works  out 
according  to  schedule,  mebbe  I'll  send  a 
92 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

special  train  back  there  for  you  and 
the  old  woman.  Kinder  surprise  you 
folks  back  there  to  hear  of  your 
Uncle  Eben  buying  out  the  Southern 
Pacific  and  taking  a  mortgage  on  the 
Santa  Fe,  wouldn't  it  ? 

That's  what  some  of  these  oil  fellars 
reckon  I'll  be  doing  before  very  long. 

Mebbe  I  will,  I  dunno. 

The  production  of  oil  in  California 
amounts  to  over  $50,000,000  a  year, 
Bill.  Looks  like  some  fellars  out  here 
ought  to  be  able  to  smoke  two-bit 
cigars,  don't  it  ? 

Say,  did  I  ever  look  like  a  "Rube" 
to  you — honest? 

Sometimes  I  kinder  wonder  how 
these  fellars  knew  I'd  be  so  easy,  and 
come  and  camped  right  down  side  of 
me  until  every  blamed  thing  I  had  left 

93 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

in  my  jeans  was  a  horse-chestnut  and 
a  suspender  button.  Still,  it's  worth  a 
lot  to  have  some  fellar,  with  a  diamond 
in  his  shirt  front  that  is  big  enough  to 
stop  a  freight  train,  slap  you  on  the 
back  and  call  you  "Colonel."  Makes 
other  folks  open  their  eyes  and  think 
you're  somebody  when,  'way  down  in- 
side of  you,  you  know  mighty  well 
you're  just  a  d —  fool. 

Of  course,  I  got  in  on  the  ground 
floor,  Bill,  but  sometimes  I  believe  I 
was  what  they  call  a  "skinch"  out  here. 
I  never  have  asked  anybody  what  a 
"skinch"  was,  but  I'll  bet  it  ain't  any- 
thing to  pin  a  medal  on  you  for. 

That  little  freckled  faced  Bennie  told 
me  his  father  had  four  medals  for  brav- 
ery, but  said  his  mother  told  the  woman 
next  door  that  his  father  bought  'em  at 

94 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

a  secondhand  store  for  two  bits  apiece. 
Poor  little  kid!  he  used  to  tell  me  he 
wished  his  mother  was  a  "widder,"  so 
I  could  be  his  father.  After  reading 
the  letter  I  got  from  him  yesterday, 
chances  ain't  so  slim  as  they  might  be. 
I'll  send  it  on  for  you  to  read;  handle  it 
gently,  Bill.  Some  day  I'm  going  to 
put  it  on  the  market  as  a  sure  cure  for 
the  grouch. 


Ain't  no  use  stickin' 
your  troubles  in  my 
pocket,  Bill — I've  got 
a  hole  in  it. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


BENNIE'S  LETTER 
DEER   UNKLE 

EBBIN:— 
My     Pa     seys: 
"Wimmen  is  aw- 
ful funny  critters,"  an'  Ma  seys: 
"Same  ter  you,  you  old  lobster." 
Now,  I  never  can  find  out  why  Ma 
calls  Pa  "lobster";  I  ast  him  onct,  an' 
gee!  I  got  a  dandy  lickin'  fer  it,  so  I 
ain't  found  out  yet. 

I  heard  a  man  call  my  Pa  a  "sucker" 
onct,  too,  and,  after  he'd  forgot  about 

99 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

it,  I  sed:  "  Pa,  is  a  sucker  a  fish  ? "  an*  he 
sed, 

"Urn-Hum!" 

And  I  sed:  "Pa,  is  a  lobster  a  fish  ?" 
an'  he  sed, 

"Kinder." 

And  I  looked  him  over  mighty  hard, 
and  I  sed:  "Why  do  folks  take  you  for 
a  lobster  or  a  sucker,  Pa  ?  You  don't 
look  fishy." 

Chrlckity!  I  got  the  awfullest 
whalin'  that  day  you  ever  heard  tell  of, 
so  I  ain't  found  out  yet. 

But  I  know  it  don't  mean  same  as  if 
some  one  called  you  a  peach,  'cause  I 
heard  Pa  call  a  waitress  in  an  cat-shop 
a  peach  onct,  an'  she  laffed,  and  her 
face  got  red  all  over. 

Pa's  face  gits  red  all  over  when  Ma 
calls  him  a  lobster  or  a  sucker;  but  I 

100 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

ain't  never  seen  him  laff  onct  when  she 
seys  it.  He  always  breathes  hard,  like 
a  wind-broke  hoss,  and  snorts  and  paws 
round  till  I  git  my  Sunday-school  les- 
son and  study  like  blazes;  'cause  I  ain't 
forgot  the  whalin'  I  got  for  talkin'  about 
lobsters. 

Pa  seys:  "Children  can  be  seen 
without  their  talkin'-machines  goin'," 
an'  when  he  seys  that,  I  know  he  means 
bizness,  and  it  ain't  no  time  to  ast  ques- 
tions. 

One  thing,  I  betcher-life,  the  kind 
of  sucker  Pa  is  ain't  nothin'  like  the 
all-day  suckers  you  buy  at  the  candy- 
store  for  a  cent.  Onct  I  ast  Pa  for  a 
cent,  an'  he  ast  me  what  I  was  goin'  to 
buy  with  it.  When  I  told  him  I  was 
goin'  to  buy  an  all-day  sucker,  he  took 
the  cent  back  again,  an'  sed  there  was 


101 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

too  darned  many  suckers  in  the  family 
already  without  buyin'  'em.  Told  me 
to  go  an'  chew  a  piece  of  straw  out'n 
the  broom — taste  jest  as  good,  and 
better  for  my  stummick. 

Ma  seys  Pa  forgits  when  he  was  a 
kid.  Gee!  I'll  bet  Pa  was  a  mean  cuss 
when  he  was  a  boy!  Wish't  I'd  been 
big  when  he  was  little — I'd  sure  licked 
the  stuffin'  out  of  him  for  sum  of  the 
lickin's  he's  given  to  me  since  then. 

I  heard  Ma  say  onct  he  was  always 
a  red-headed,  freckled-faced  lobster, 
even  when  he  was  a  kid,  and  he  hain't 
never  got  over  it.  Said  his  nose  always 
needed  wipin',  too.  Gee!  he  boxes 
my  ears  when  my  nose  is  runnin',  and 
it's  only  just  plain  water,  mine  is,  too — 
never  drops  off,  'cause  I  always  catch 
it  on  my  sleeve  just  as  it's  going  to. 

102 


WHEN    EAST    COMES   WEST 

Me  and  Skinny  Duff  run  a  race  one 
day  at  school  last  winter,  jest  to  see 
which  could  hold  a  drop  on  the  end  of 
his  nose  longest. 

I  beet. 

Skinny  got  to  laffin'  and  joggled  his 
so  it  dropped  off.  I  kinder  felt  sorry 
for  him,  'cause  his  best  girl  was  watchin' 
us,  and  wanted  him  to  beet.  She  bet 
her  chewin'-gum  with  another  girl  he'd 
beet,  but  you  see  I  had  him  beet  'way 
before  we  started,  'cause  Skinny's  nose 
turns  up  and  mine  hooks  over,  so,  you 
see,  when  Skinny's  drop  started  to  drop, 
it  dropped  suddent  like,  but  mine  held 
on  fine  and  dandy. 

Skinny's  girl  hated  to  lose  her  gum 

like  thunder,  'cause  she  sed  she'd  had 

it  ever  since  school  begun,  and  that  was 

five  months  ago.     Gee!  I  bet  the  'lastic 

103 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

was  all  gone  out  of  it!  I  told  her  when 
I  made  some  pond-lily  money  in  the 
summer  I'd  buy  her  another  hunk,  if 
she  wouldn't  go  and  blab  it  to  Skinny, 
'cause  Skinny's  Pa  is  a  p'liceman,  and 
I'd  ruther  not  mix  up  with  him,  'cause 
he  knows  my  Pa — sure,  he's  brought 
my  Pa  home  lots  of  nites  when  Pa's  hed 
bothered  him,  or  when  he  found  him 
layin'  in  the  gutter,  sick.  Ma  tells  me 
Pa  has  spells — dizzy  spells,  she  calls 
'em,  and  she  shoos  me  off  to  bed  when 
he's  got  a  spell  on — always  seys  she 
don't  want  me  to  catch  it — might  be 
small-pox i  or  sumthin'  worse. 

I  seen  him  jest  onct  with  a  spell  on. 
Ma  sed  he  was  asleep — I  thought  he 
was  dead,  he  looked  so  to  me;  but  Ma 
sed  I  didn't  know  as  much  as  I  would 
sum  day. 

104 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Whenever  he's  brot  home  in  a  spell, 
Ma  gits  him  on  the  bed,  goes  through 
his  pockits,  pulls  down  the  blinds,  and 
seys:  " There!  sleep  it  off,  you  old 
bat."  Then  she  goes  out  and  slams 
the  door.  Ma  is  awful  hard-hearted, 
Ma  is,  but  Pa  is  so  sick  he  never  knows 
anything  about  it. 

Skinny  and  me  are  goin'  to  race  again 
for  a  bag  of  marbles,  soon  as  I  can 
catch  cold.  Skinny  is  always  ready  for 
a  race,  'cause  he's  got  the  cattarr  so 
bad  all  the  time  that  he  always  has  a 
drop  waitin'  on  the  end  of  his  nose. 
He's  been  layin'  for  me  all  winter;  but 
my  Ma  made  me  put  on  underdrawers, 
an'  I  ain't  had  the  nose-run  since. 

Pa  says  Ma's  highfalutin'.  She  ain't 
either,  and  he  knows  it.  She's  Piska- 
bull,  Ma  is,  'cause  I  went  with  her  down 
105 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

to  the  church  when  they  gave  her  the 
soakin'  that  made  her  one.  Pa's  for- 
gitful,  Pa  is;  he  ought  to  remember  the 
day  she  was  made  Piskabull,  'cause  he 
went  to  a  cock-fight  over  in  Buddy 
Hawes'  barn  that  mornin',  and  he  hol- 
lered so  loud  the  cops  pinched  the 
whole  bunch. 

Ma  passed  Pa  when  she  cum  out  of 
church — made  Piskabull — an5  she  was 
feeling  mighty  sticked  up  about  it  'till 
she  saw  Pa  ridin'  down  the  street  in  the 
control  wagon.  Pa  had  to  carry  the 
rooster  in  his  lap,  and  was  ridin'  on  the 
front  seat  with  a  cop  on  each  side  of 
him.  Pa  blue  his  nose,  tryin'  to  hide 
his  face,  but  he  couldn't  fool  Ma  on  his 
bald  hed. 

Ma  sed:  "There's  that  old  carrot- 
top  of  mine  gettin'  a  free  ride."  Gee! 

106 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Ma's  got  more  pet  names  for  my  Pa 
than  I  can  remember.  She  ain't  soft, 
Ma  ain't.  She  never  seys,  "Deer  and 
Darlin',"  like  Percy  Brown's  Ma  does 
to  his  Pa.  Nope — just  lobster,  or 
sucker,  or  goat — see,  straight  from  the 
shoulder,  Ma  is.  Pa  always  under- 
stands Ma  fine. 

It's  jest  like  play-actin'  when  Pa  and 
Ma  spend  the  evenin'  together,  but  they 
send  me  off  to  bed  when  it's  jest  about 
time  for  the  scrappin'  to  begin. 

Gee!  I  wish't  I  was  a  fly,  so's  I  could 
lite  on  the  ceiling  and  pretend  not  to  be 
lookin'.  Nope — I  ruther  be  a  hornet, 
so  I  could  sting  'em  if  they  got  too  gay 
with  me. 

There's  a  new  fellar  down  to  our 
school  that  fites  like  a  hornet. 

Gee!  That  feller  can  fite!     But  he 

107 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

skins  out  of  everything  'cause  he's  an 
orfin.  What's  an  orfin  ?  Wish't  I  was 
one,  you  bet.  If  he  lies,  he  don't  get 
stood  in  the  corner  same  as  us  fellars  do, 
'cause  he's  an  orfin.  When  he  chucks 
spit-balls  into  a  fellar's  eye,  he  don't 
get  a  lickin'  for  it,  'cause  he's  an  orfin. 
Teacher  pets  him  and  helps  him 
with  his  lessons,  always  sayin':  "Bless 
his  poor  little  orfin  hart."  What's  an 
orfin  hart?  By  Jimminy!  I  wish't  I 
had  one!  Pa's  got  a  terbecca  hart, 
doctor  seys ;  but  Pa  seys  its  a  dam  lie — 
seys  Ma  put  the  doctor  up  to  sayin'  so, 
so's  he'd  quit  smokin'.  So  an  orfin 
hart  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  a  ter- 
bacca  hart — nope — anyway,  wish't  I 
had  one.  I'm  goin'  to  ast  Pa  sum  day 
when  he's  feelin'  good  to  let  me  be  an 

orfin. 

1 08 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

Buck  Beans,  that  lives  next  door, 
told  his  Pa  I  wanted  to  be  an  orfin, 
and  his  Pa  sed  he'd  bet  I'd  be  a  half 
orfin  'fore  long,  if  the  corn  juice  held 
out. 

Buck  Beans  is  awful  jealous  of  us 
anyway,  'cause  we've  got  a  morgige  on 
our  house,  and  all  he's  got  on  his  is  a 
bay  winder.  I'd  ruther  have  a  mor- 
gige on  our  house  .than  a  little  old  bay 
winder — it  costs  more,  and  Pa  seys  its 
harder  to  git.  Buck's  Pa  don't  speak 
to  my  Pa,  and  his  Ma  don't  look  at  my 
Ma.  They  are  so  sticked  up,  Ma  seys, 
'cause  they've  got  an  ottermobeel  and 
a  chiffonier. 

Gee!     Bet  we   could   have  a  dozen 

ottermobeels    and     chiffoniers    if    we 

wanted  'em.     Pa  seys  Ma's  afraid  the 

ottermobeel  will  run  away  with  her, 

109 


WHEN    EAST    COMES    WEST 

and  Ma  seys  Pa  is  afraid  she'll  run 
away  with  the  chiffonier;  so  we  all  ride 
on  the  street  car  when  we've  got  the 
price. 

P.  S. — The  only  rides  I  ever  git  on 
anything  is  hookin'  on  behind. 

P.  S.— P.  S.— I'm  in  bed  to-day,  an' 
I  haf  ter  lay  on  my  stummick,  'cause  I 
ast  Pa  last  night  to  let  me  be  an  orfin, 
an'  he  licked  the  day-lights  out  of  me ! 
So  I  ain't  found  out  yet. 

Say!    What  is  an  orfin  ? 

Yours,  awful  trooly, 

Bennie. 


THE   END 


no 


A  Tenderfoot  in 
Southern  California 

BY 

MINA  DEANE  HALSEY 


A  laugh  from  cover  to  cover 


THIS  BOOK  HAS  HAD  A  MOST  PHENOMENAL 
SALE  AND  IS  A  SURE  CURE  FOR  INDIGESTION 


"The  good-natured,  breezy  outlook  of  the  author  has 
its  own  charm." — Los  Angelei  Graphic. 

**The  rain,  the  auctions,  the  stores,  our  theatres,  our 
marvelous  bargain  sales,  our  fleas  and  our  conductors,  all 
come  within  the  pages  of  the  book,  to  receive  the  pungent 
fun-poking  of  this  gifted  woman  in  the  guise  of  Silas 
Waybach." — Los  dnge/es  Times. 


Cloth,  gilt  top,  $1.00 

THE    A.    E.    HALSEY    CO. 

LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 


Needles  and  Pins 


BY 


MINA  DEANE  HALSEY 


A  volume  of  effervescence 

aimed  at  your  next  door 

neighbor  and  not  intended 

for  your  own  good  self 


SHOES  :  TO   :   FIT  :  ALL  :   FEET! 


Beautifully  upholstered  in  cloth  and  gilt 
$1.00 


THE    A.    E.    HALSEY    CO, 

LOS  ANGELES,  CAL. 


